For Korea's fathers

By Bernard Rowan

I'd like to write a column in tribute to Korean fathers. As a student and admirer of Korean society, I've spent much time learning about Korean ajumma, mature working women, and I've written several columns about them. Let's encourage similar thinking about Korea's many uncles and grandpas, the ajeossi and harabeoji.

First, I want to say that my discovery of Korea came through several friends and colleagues of my own generation. I met gentlemen of my parents' generation too. These gentlemen became colleagues and friends. They're older today, but many remain active. It's their Korea, with my friends that we inherit into the present.

These men entered life following, before or during the Korean War and lived through the time of South Korea's development, economically and as a democracy. They're older than the generation of student protesters in the 1980s and typically avoided progressive politics. However, I think they represent much of what's made Korea one of the world's most progressive and advanced societies.

These teachers, business leaders, and political figures are also husbands and fathers. They're not publicly considered uncles or grandpas but instead professors, presidents, and others occupying leading roles in public institutions and private enterprise. Their status ranks above other Korean men. Yet they know friendship beyond class and rank. Their Korean comrades worked in all trades, industries, military branches, farms, and fisheries.

I continue to marvel at the way that Korean society, with its Confucian fundament, values the educated and sees no problem in making them leaders of government and industry. Indeed, practical thinking in Korea complements higher learning. The ranks of many, many advanced think tanks, government offices, scientific schools, universities, and corporate organizations prove it.

By contrast, other ajeossi and harabeoji are the husbands of ajumma and halmeoni. Here are several groups of Korean fathers to note. One is an apartment guard. I read stories in late 2014 about their plight. Underpaid, disrespected, unsupported by the residents who depend on them, and laid off in large numbers, they deserve better. I enjoyed communicating with the guards at my apartment building. They asked me if I was happy and provided me with help in many small ways that made life better. On a serious note, they provide security and lessen incidences of crime in a way that we neglect to value enough.

A fond memory is of walking through streets and neighborhoods to see older Korean men enjoying company with one another, drinking makkeolli at tables outside restaurants or convenience shops, and the like. Many ajeossi drive taxis and took me safely home late at night. Sure, there are a few stories of poor service, irritability, and coarse treatment, but those are exceptions.

Most Korean women live longer than Korean men. Many movies and dramas as well as documentaries focus on Korean ajumma and halmeoni. We shouldn't forget that many of Korea's aging male population face similar conditions. Low income, isolation from their families or life alone, and few social supports characterize too many lives. At the south entrance to Insadong cultural district in Seoul is Tapgol Park. In this and other places, many Korean seniors gather to occupy their time in various pursuits.

In Pungnapdong, I'd see men from outside Seoul coming to sell vegetables or fruit. Groups of older men and women cleared grass from the Paekche earthen wall grounds of Pungnaptoseong. Other uncles and grandpas ran various shops for milling and baking grains along Toseong-ro. Others took laundry or gathered recyclables.

We should value these places, spaces, and these men. Korea rose from the depths of war and despair, of colonization and deprecation, to progress and success because of them. We owe them a great debt of gratitude. We owe continued efforts that stand on their shoulders and respect their work and memories.

No group of citizens and people in any country is perfect, and neither are Korea's uncles and grandpas. I once studied divorce patterns from a sample of cases and found that many of these men experienced life stresses and took them out on their wives. The last 50 years have seen similar patterns in many countries.

At this season of remembering the sacrifices of fathers, let's not repeat the mistake of our high-tech era of instant and expendable memories and flow of communications that occupy our time and understandings. We'd be nowhere without the work and toil, the sacrifice of lives, the hours of overtime, and the blood, sweat, and tears of Korean uncles and grandfathers of all social classes.

My best friend's sons learned to respect great elders using the term ajeossi and to include a respectful bow. We learn respect for ourselves in part through respecting our own fathers and grandfathers. The needs of today's Korean elders and fathers deserve further study and attention in a lasting and positive way, just as do those of their Korean sisters.

I'd like to thank the many Korean uncles, fathers, grandfathers, and friends in spirit whose humanity or injeong has enriched and marked my life with learning and happiness. Daedanhi Gamsahamnida.

Bernard Rowan is assistant provost for curriculum and assessment, professor of political science and faculty athletics representative at Chicago State University, where he has served for 22 years. Reach him at browan10@yahoo.com.